The Assassination of D'Arcy McGee

One of the Fathers of Confederation was shot dead in the streets of Ottawa. Thomas D’Arcy McGee was Sir John A. Macdonald’s right-hand-man and one of the most popular politicians in the country. So who the hell would want to kill him? We re-open one of Canada’s most notorious cold cases.

A big thank you to those who graciously contributed their voices for some of the quotations in the episode: Leete Stetson (D'Arcy McGee), Hayden Finkelshtain (Patrick J. Whelan), Nikolai Efimov (Patrick Buckley), and Josef Beeby (Messenger).

The story of the assassination of D'Arcy McGee is gigantic. Putting this episode together was daunting because so many details, characters, and events had to be left out. We strongly suggest that interested viewers dive into external sources to come up with their own theories and see the trial from angles we might have only touched on. We tried to find common denominators between the works of multiple historians, in tandem with primary documents, to tell the tale in as succinct (yet open-ended) a way as we could. But bear this in mind: the debate surrounding the trial and who killed McGee rages to this day—there is no definitive accepted truth, just clues, court transcripts, a whole lot of rumours, and a hanged man.

It would be impossible to share everything we came across in our research within this description, so here are a few highlights:

Firstly, it's worth mentioning just how determined McGee was in his campaign against Fenianism. He was a rebel in Ireland, to the point he had a warrant out for his arrest—he escaped to North America on a ship disguised as a priest. In Canada, he became a pioneer of multiculturalism and equality, and he traveled the country passionately sharing his message. Undeterred by the constant real threat of being killed, McGee gave furious speeches in both Catholic and Protestant Irish societies, a lot of the time to enraged crowds. He was fearless, even though he suspected his tenacity might lead to a violent end. McGee apparently had nightmares about his death, and said to a colleague: “There is no danger of my being converted into a political martyr. If ever I were murdered, it would be by some wretch who would shoot me from behind.”

We briefly touch on how strongly the country mourned the loss of their 'Prophet of Confederation,' but it can't be over-emphasized. McGee's funeral was the biggest in Canadian history, our country’s first-ever state funeral, and an official day of public mourning. It took place on what should have been D’Arcy McGee’s 43rd birthday. A crowd of 80,000 lined the streets of Montreal—80% of the city’s entire population—to pay their respects as a black catafalque was driven to St. Patrick's Church. 15,000 mourners followed the body while the band played Handel's “Death March.” McGee had spent most of his time living in Montreal where he was beloved.

Now the elephant in the room: was Whelan a Fenian and did he have a role in the murder? Briefly: most agree Whelan was a Fenian whether or not he admitted to it, but that doesn't make him a killer. What we hoped to accomplish in this episode wasn't to project a verdict on Whelan, but on the trial itself. It's generally accepted that if this trial were to have taken place in modern times, Whelan would have received a 'not guilty' verdict. Clearly, the fact that John A. and Judge Richards worked together to make sure Whelan was convicted and hung quickly is cause for a mistrial, but there's grounds for a 'reasonable doubt' of his guilt in just considering that the entire trial relied on circumstantial evidence given by witnesses who could not be trusted. A quick list of some key points:

- The guards who recounted Whelan's confession in jail may have misinterpreted sarcasm, or worse—as it's been suggested elsewhere—they may have made it up. That confession played a significant role during the trial.

- We weren't joking when we said the reward money for witnesses was problematic. A majority of the witnesses who testified against Whelan didn't come out of the woodwork until the reward was raised, months and months after the murder.

- Pistols like Whelan's were commonplace in Ottawa at the time.

- Lacroix described Whelan as short and McGee as tall, the reverse was true.

- Whelan appealed his sentence based on the stacked jury, a clear injustice to many at the time.

- A lot of witness testimony was focused on hearsay "threats" Whelan allegedly made but could be summed up as common grievances hundreds of people had against McGee.

Episode Transcript:

It's 4:00 in the morning April 7, 1868. Prime John A. Macdonald has just returned home to his wife Agnes. He's drenched in blood and white as a ghost.

"McGee is murdered," he tells her.

It's true. Thomas D'Arcy McGee has just been assassinated. He was one of the most respected politicians in the country, a brilliant speaker who fought tirelessly for Canadian unity, a prophet of confederation, and Macdonald's right-hand man. He had just been killed in the country's first political assassination. Macdonald was devastated. An hour earlier, he'd been cradling the head of his dear, dead friend. He was still in shock. There was no time to rest. There was a killer on the loose in Ottawa. 

Over the course of the next eight days, a new nation would mourn the death of an icon. A manhunt would lead to one of Canada's strangest trials and a mystery would be born, one that has never been solved.

This is Canadiana.

McGee was born and raised in Ireland, a survivor of the great potato famine, which killed a million people. It was there that he first entered political life as a revolutionary freedom fighter for Irish independence. He fought the British every chance he got, but in the end, he, like a million other Irish men, women, and children was forced to flee his homeland, leaving the political turmoil and mass starvation behind in favor of a new life in North America.

He came to Canada where everything suddenly changed. McGee fell in love with his new home. He was transformed from a vengeful rebel into a diplomatic nation builder, rallying support for the idea of a new Canadian nation. Less than a year before he was murdered, his labors were finally rewarded.

In 1867, a land of divided colonies came together to form the Dominion of Canada. Thomas D'Arcy McGee would go down in history as one of the fathers of confederation. He was adored by people all across the new country. So who the hell would want him dead?

To answer that question, we need to reopen one of the most notorious of all Canadian cold cases. 

It's the night of the murder, 2:00 A.M.

In half an hour, McGee will be dead, but for now, he's delivering another one of his eloquent speeches arguing passionately in favor of the country he helped to build.

 - [McGee] And I, sir, speak here not as the representative of any race or of any province, but as thoroughly and emphatically a Canadian.

He's met with vigorous applause, but amid the cheers of approval, a few react with disdain. It's a group of Irishmen looking down on McGee from a corner of the house gallery. His political life in Canada has made him a few enemies among his fellow Irish immigrants including a secretive group of revolutionaries known as the Fenians. The Fenians were willing to kill in the name of a free Ireland.

They were on a mission to terrorize Canada, thinking that a campaign of deadly attacks here would put pressure on the British government to give Ireland its independence. They even organized full-scale invasions. Armies of thousands of soldiers marched across the border from the United States. D'Arcy McGee was one of their greatest enemies. To him, they were terrorists giving Irish Catholics a bad name, villains determined to ruin all the work he's done to unify Canada. He became the government's mouthpiece in the battle to crush the movement.

But as much as McGee hated the Fenians, they hated him even more. To them, Thomas D'Arcy McGee was a traitor to the homeland and one of the may even have been sitting up there in the gallery that night getting ready to do something about it.

When Parliament finally wraps things up, McGee joins Sir John A. Macdonald to smoke cigars at the House bar. After the Prime Minister leaves, McGee enjoys some whiskey with another MP, Robert MacFarlane. Before long, they call it a night.

McGee puts on his brand new bright white top hot and joins MacFarlane for the short walk home under the full moon. They head down Metcalfe until they reach Sparks Street. MacFarlane bids McGee a good night and leaves him to hobble with his cane down the street towards Mrs. Trotter's boarding house where he's staying. He steps into the shadowed side of the street headed toward his death. At the boarding house, Mrs. Trotter hears what she thinks is tapping on the window.

She slowly creaks open the front door to find McGee has his key in the lock half turned.

Bright white flash.

A gun goes off.

The 32 caliber bullet passes through the back of McGee's head, knocks out his fake front teeth, and lodges in the door. His lifeless body falls backward into the street, the cigar, still lit, falls to his side. Somewhere nearby, a carriage races away. A messenger is dispatched to wake the Prime Minister with the news.

- [Man Shouts] McGee is murdered! He's lying in the street shot through the head!

After that, things happen fast.

Every Irish Catholic in the city is a suspect. Habeas Corpus is suspended and about 40 people are arrested without any chance of bail. They arrest the Prime Minister's own carriage driver, Patrick Buckley, and it's through him that they finally get a lead.

- [Man] I hope it wasn't the sandy-whiskered tailor who killed him.

Sir John A's spies and secret police rushed to search the city for tailors. The lead detective heads to Starr's Hotel and Tavern where a man with sandy whiskers is staying, a man named Patrick James Whelan. They gather evidence from him and his room, mostly trinkets, odds and ends, and some Irish paraphernalia as well as ammunition cartridges and a fully loaded Smith and Weston revolver, 32 caliber.

None of it is damning until the detective finds powder residue on the gun barrel. He claims it must have been fired in the past 48 hours and that's it. From here on out, Whelan is considered to be a dead man walking. The suspect is brought here to Carleton County Jail, which is now a hostel. Today, you can sleep in one of the world's most dreadful prisons in a cell no more than a meter wide.

It was here that Whelan was allegedly overhead confessing to a cell mate.

- [Whelan] Yes, I'm a great felon. I shot that fellow, I shot him like a dog.

When the guards recounted that story in the courtroom, it caused a sensation.

During the trial, one witness after another came forward to level claims of Fenianism against Whelan and to recount the threats they heard him mutter. One of them said he'd seen Whelan there in the House of Commons on the night of the murder sitting in the gallery alone with his fellow Irishmen. But the strongest testimony came from the Crown's star witness: this man, Jean-Baptist Lacroix. Lacroix told the court that on the night of the murder, he saw Whelan walking behind McGee on Sparks Street.

"That's the man I saw," he shouted. "That's the man who shot D'Arcy McGee."

The circumstantial evidence was piling up, overwhelming the lead defense attorney, leaving Whelan with just one hope: another member of his legal team: John O'Farrell. O'Farrell was a notorious lawyer from Quebec with Fenian ties. Rumors suggest he may have tried to bribe the Crown's witnesses, maybe even threaten them.

Whatever tricks O'Farrell pulled, the accused wasn't getting out of this one. The quick trial came to a quick end. The jury barely took any time to deliberate. Whelan was sentenced to death.

On February 11, 1869, he was taken here to the gallows to be hanged in front of 5,000 spectators. It was one of the last public hangings in Canada.

His last words were:

- [Man] God save Ireland and God save my soul.

But that came after he said this.

- [Man] I know'd a man who shot Mr. McGee.

Here's where things get really strange.

For one thing, Sir John A. Macdonald had an uncomfortable, if not downright illegal, influence on this case. He demanded to sit beside the judge for the entirety of the trial, glaring down at the accused, destroying the barrier between the executive and judiciary. And that is just the tip of the iceberg. When you start to dig deeper, you see holes in everything.

The motive.

It had been immediately assumed that Whelan was a Fenian, but some people who knew him said he wasn't interested in politics at all. Whelan himself claimed that he was a fan of McGee. More importantly, he professed his innocence until his final breath, even writing a letter to the Prime Minister a day before his execution, all of this at a time when Fenians were known to welcome the chance for martyrdom.

The witnesses.

Lacroix said he said Whelan stalking McGee on Sparks Street, but his testimony is a mess. His descriptions of both men were completely inaccurate. He didn't even recognize Whelan when he first saw him and he said McGee was wearing a black top hat, a good guess if you didn't know he'd been wearing his brand new white one. And most of the other witnesses who said they saw Whelan here and there, saying this or that, were just plain lying about their own whereabouts and they didn't come forward until a reward of $10,000 was offered by the Prime Minister.

The jury.

Catholic citizens were banned from it. In an already corrupted trial, the prosecutor was somehow able to fill the jury with people who may have immediately despised an Irish Catholic like Whelan: Protestants.

The gun.

The most damning evidence was the smoking gun. But one of the strangest twists of the trial happened when a servant from Starr's Hotel came forward with a bombshell. Not only did she say that Whelan had been trying to sell the sport shooting pistol for weeks, but of course it had been fired recently. A maid who'd been cleaning Whelan's room pulled the gun out from under his pillow and accidentally shot herself in the arm. She still had the wound to prove it.

But here's the kicker:

There was another suspect: Whelan's brute of a lawyer, John O'Farrell.

On the night of the murder, O'Farrell went to the house an MP, James Goodwin, a friend of McGee's and distracted him for hours in a pointless conversation, a man he'd never met before. He was allegedly stalling him from going to meet with McGee after Parliament wrapped up for the night. Then, right around the time of the murder, O'Farrell vanished.

Back on Sparks Street, neighbors told police they heard a carriage race off down the road after the gun shot went off and not far away, guess who happened to show up at a closed toll gate, headed away from the scene of the crime? An attendant says the man gave his name as John O'Farrell. The newspaper knew about this. They called O'Farrell a murderer outright enough times, he sued them, but none of it came to light until long after Whelan was swinging from the noose.

Theories abound.

Some people think there was a conspiracy that a whole group plotted McGee's murder and that O'Farrell was absolutely a part of it. Whelan didn't shoot McGee, but maybe as he said on the gallows, he knew who did. The truth, we'll never know and we can thank Sir John A. Macdonald for that.

Whelan tried to appeal his death sentence twice, but Macdonald wasn't about to show him any mercy. The judge who presided over the initial trial just happened to be promoted. He ended up presiding over Whelan's appeal too and he wasn't about to go against his own verdict.

So then, Whelan appeals to an entirely different court. When he shows up, guess who's sitting behind the bench?

The same judge again. Whelan was doomed.

Macdonald didn't stop there, not even after Whelan was hanged. The Prime Minister had originally promised the family they'd get to give the body a proper Catholic burial, but instead he made sure it was dumped in the ground here at the jail and he sealed the grave with lime.

The funeral of Thomas D'Arcy McGee would be Canada's first ever state funeral.

Nearly the entire city of Montreal attended it and justly or not, as far as Sir John A. Macdonald was concerned, he'd avenged his friend's murder and brought closure to a national tragedy.

The descendants of Patrick James Whelan eventually dug up a big of earth at the Carleton County Gaol in 2002 and buried it at Notre Dame Des Neiges Cemetery in Montreal, not far from McGee's final resting, a last little bit of morbid irony.

And so ends the tragic tale of Thomas D'Arcy McGee and Patrick James Whelan, one man idolized and mourned, the other shamed and left to rot. Two Irishmen haunted by shadows of their homeland, bound together by a mystery no one can solve, a brutal killing followed by a clear miscarriage of justice. 

All we can do now is drink to them both in traditional Irish fashion.

Slainte.

There's one more strange piece of evidence that we haven't mentioned yet: a mysterious encounter with something puts the final nail in Whelan's coffin and it really is bizarre so I'll tell you about it in a second.

But first, I want to thank you so much for watching. If you'd like to see more incredible stories about the history of Canada, please click subscribe and you can follow us on social media at @thisiscanadiana. We have plenty more stories to tell, but this really is just a very big country. So we do need your help to do it. You can become a patron on Patreon and just a little bit of money every month, even just a dollar will help us keep telling stories like this one.

Now, back to that mysterious piece of evidence.

Just three months before the assassination on New Year's Eve, Whelan showed up at McGee's brother's house where McGee was ringing in the New Year. He demanded to see the politician even though the two men had never met and he told McGee there was a plot against his life, that someone was gonna set fire to the house later that same night at 4:00 in the morning. 

McGee demanded to know who Whelan was and where he'd gotten his information, but Whelan refused to give up his sources and he gave a fake name: Smith of the Grand Trunk. McGee asked him to alert the police and Whelan said he would, but then the cops didn't show up until 5:30 in the morning, long after the attack was supposed to have taken place.

It never did, but the story was brought up during the trial as evidence of a grand conspiracy, though no one could make much sense of it and that's still true today. It's just one more bizarre detail in the strange story of the assassination of D'Arcy McGee, a tale that's been baffling historians for more than a century.

Thanks again for watching.

I'm Adam Bunch and we'll see you next time on Canadiana.